At 34, my single status had become a constant concern for my parents. Desperate for grandchildren, they introduced me to endless potential partners. Their final ultimatum crossed the line: no inheritance unless I married by 35—a deadline fast approaching.

One frustrating day, I noticed a woman sitting on a corner, her hair unkempt, holding a worn sign that read, *“Need help.”* Despite her circumstances, her eyes radiated warmth.

On impulse, I approached her with an unconventional proposal: I’d marry her to appease my parents. In return, I’d provide her with essentials like shelter and clothing—she’d only need to play the role of my wife.

Her name was Jessica, and to my surprise, she agreed. Soon, she was dressed neatly and ready to meet my parents, who were thrilled by the news of our engagement. After a quick wedding, life moved forward. But one evening, a month later, everything changed.

I came home to a spotless house, the scent of a home-cooked meal wafting through the air, and fresh flowers adorning the table. Jessica greeted me warmly and served my favorite dish, her transformation as stunning as the scene before me.

As we sat, she shared her story of struggle and resilience, revealing a depth I hadn’t expected. Then, she handed me a small, cloth-wrapped notebook—her journal, filled with dreams and reflections. Her words, *“I didn’t need saving, just care,”* struck a chord. Jessica wasn’t just part of an arrangement; she had become someone I deeply valued.

The next day, I told my parents the truth. What began as a rebellious act against their expectations had grown into a genuine bond. Jessica wasn’t just a stranger I married to meet a deadline—she was my partner, someone who had profoundly changed my life.